


The Adventures of Ozzy & Luka

by peacemturner (idratherhaveyoucursedornot), Sauvage



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: A pinch of angst as per usual, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack but make it cohesive?, F/M, Fluff and Humor, I was robbed of a sibling dynamic in canon and this is my coping mechanism, Nobody asked for this but we're still serving HAHAHA, We have no idea what we're doing but we're having fun, cracc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idratherhaveyoucursedornot/pseuds/peacemturner, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauvage/pseuds/Sauvage
Summary: "The crispy cold of life may try it's best to dampen one's spirits, but as long as you have a hot drink in hand and burning embers in a hearth? So long as joyful tales come and go, spoken over and bringing forth the warmth residing within your hearts? Nothing can take it from you."~ the words of one very wise man,(or so he would like to remind us all at every Sunday dinner)
Relationships: Lila Desroses/Lukas "Grumpy Cat" Randall
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31





	1. Chaotic Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you, though highly unlikely,  _ unaware  _ of what inspired this, the links: 
> 
> [ Purple Hyacinth ](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621&page=1) by  [ Ephemerys  ](https://www.instagram.com/ephemerys_ph/?hl=en) and  [ Sophism ](https://www.instagram.com/deadsophism) . 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas sipped on the last of his coffee, firmly dismissing the coiling in his gut.
> 
> Unfortunately for him, his gut feeling would prove to be painfully correct.

**So, you want a story? Alright, you little** **_gremlins_ ** **.**

 **_We_ ** **have a story for you.**

For the first time in a long while, the office was silent. The day had been long, seeing as Hermann had interrogated Lauren personally, and added much to the already wire-tight tension in the precinct. 

Lukas might’ve liked the silence better, and would’ve almost thanked Hermann for it but he knew that none of them deserved his wrath, and yet, there was something strangely ominous about it.

The hands of the clock grew closer to five as Lukas worked on his fifteenth cup of coffee for the day. A worried Kym Ladell may have been quiet, but she was - not by a sliver of chance - tolerable still. The only somewhat normal part of his day was Lila sitting at the desk next to his, dutifully filing away her paperwork while humming a little tune.

The office was _too_ quiet and spurred on by a base instinct, Lukas prepared himself for an oncoming storm.

Observing that Lukas seemed to be a bit grumpier than usual, Lila at first was hesitant to speak, but with her concern and curiosity winning over her apprehension, she softly inquired.

“You seem grumpy, Lukas.”

At Lukas’ deadpan expression, she explained, “Well, more than usual.”

Lukas awkwardly rubbed the back of his nape as he gruffly said, feeling a tad bit stupid, “I have a feeling that something’s wrong. It’s too calm in here today.”

“Well, I think that everyone is simply a little low on spirits with Sake’s death yesterday,” Lila said, her eyes briefly looking around the room at the tense and worried expressions etched in various degrees on her co-workers’ dark faces. Even the usually chipper and lively Sergeant Ladell seemed to be in the throes of it, actually doing her paperwork for once.

Sipping his coffee pensively, Lukas spoke, “No. That’s not it. It’s something else.” 

Despite having very good intuition, Lukas tried and failed to identify the twisting feeling in his gut, the same feeling that he got whenever he caught the bittersweet scent of chai tea, or when he reached into the jar where he kept some self-indulgent hard lemon candies by his apartment door, only to come up with little white chocolates, wrapped in tiny bows, the feeling when-

He shook his head in disbelief; it couldn’t possibly be. It made absolutely no sense. Choosing to ignore the feeling that increasingly made itself more present as time wore on, Lukas turned to the cute secretary, attempting to continue a somewhat endearing conversation, and if her expression was anything to go by, then it had become a very confusing one instead. 

Lukas sipped on the last of his coffee, firmly dismissing the coiling in his gut.

Unfortunately for him, his gut feeling would prove to be painfully correct.

Stepping out of the car with a usual spring in his step, a dark-haired man strolled towards the building that housed the 11th precinct. Despite numerous protests from his secretary, he had deemed it fit to go down and collect certain documents that he urgently needed.

**I think I know who this man is.**

**Do you now, darling?**

The man climbed the stairs to where the patrol unit was, the doors opening lightly and without a sound. He took a moment to observe the room, officers dutifully working on piles of paperwork as the day began to wind down. His hazel eyes combed over the people in their chairs, the person who he assumed to be the lieutenant, hunched over a bundle of documents, either _constipated_ or _tired_ , he assumed. His attention caught on a small collection of mugs on one side of a desk, the dirty rings still as stark as they were immediately after the coffee was drunk. 

His eyebrows raised in delightful surprise as he noticed the man who presumably owned the mugs, the shape of his back bent in a semi-permanent hunch as he meticulously poured over various papers on his desk.

Grinning, the man approached the object of his interest, cat-like in his steps, as if to not alert the rest of the precinct of his presence. After he was a mere three feet away from the object of his attentions, he heartily gave him a solid thump on the back with his palm and said rather loudly:

“You know, that much coffee can’t _possibly_ be good for you in the long run.”

A sickening realization settled into Lukas’ gut as he remembered the feeling from earlier, properly manifesting into annoyance and hint of child-like apprehensiveness as he knew exactly _who_ had just dared laid hands on him in the first place.

**I think this is a very funny story.**

**Oh, it isn’t.**

**Oh, it is.**

**No, it** **_isn’t_ ** **.**

**You’re only saying that because nobody dies.**

**That’s true.**

The entirety of the precinct jumped and snapped their heads towards the exclamation, eyes boring into the stranger and Lukas as the latter quickly asked himself what the hell was going on and _why_ it had to be _him_ . His co-workers were uncharacteristically silent as they waited for what fresh hell would be unleashed as the stranger had the audacity to not only talk to him, but _touch_ the infamous ‘Grumpy Cat’.

Taking a very deep breath, Lukas mumbled his raspy voice strained, “I survived this far and I haven’t fallen over dead yet.”

The fearless man plucked Lukas’ half full mug as he observed the state of the room in curious inquisition, and placed it on the empty tray meant for used mugs to be taken away.

 **(** In the background, Liam whispered to Will, who looked as shell-shocked as he felt about this, “Does that man _have_ a death wish or something?”

Will gave a shaky exhale in pained reply. **)**

“Well, to _me_ , it seems that you have no wish to survive to your thirties at _all_ . And here I was, thinking that _I_ was bad.”

 **(** Upon hearing that, Ms. Desroses discreetly, but not so discreetly, slid away from the corner of Lukas’ desk while Kym had somehow managed to whip out a comically large slice of watermelon and took a bite. “I have absolutely no idea what’s going on but I bet ten dollars that there will be a murder today,” she said as the juices of her beloved fruit dribbled down her chin. **)**

**Ms. Desroses is a smart one.**

**That she is, my dear.**

**(** This statement seemed to snap Will out of his shock-induced silence. “There was one just yesterday, Kym.” Will scolded as he scooped the slice of watermelon out of her hands if only to avoid explaining how sticky _watermelon juice_ got on the reports. He passed the slice to Liam, who couldn’t help but get some juice onto his shirt, both men too interested in the observation of the coming onslaught to care much for it.

“You wouldn’t want to stay in the office after hours because of the threat of a Scythe assassin? I wouldn’t because of Officer Randall’s existence, and that man’s about to prove it.” Liam whispered conspiratorially to Will as he passed the slice to Lila, who simply held it as she noted, “I’m not sure about that. Don’t the two of them look awfully similar?” **)**

“Huh?” Lukas let loose a devastatingly sadistic laugh as he straightened in his chair, “Are you implying that _you_ aren’t worse than _me_?”

The rival only smiled and stood a bit straighter, smirking as he said, “Well, with all of those mugs, anyone with half a brain could make that assumption themselves.”

 **(** The precinct murmured amongst themselves as the betting pool had grown to considerable size. **)**

Lukas then made to get out of his chair as he stood at his full height, which was a few inches taller than the catalyst for disruption in the office. His show of teeth struck fear into the observers on the other side of the room as the dark cloud that surrounded him seemed to double in size. 

“You have some nerve, waltzing in here for nothing, _Osbourne_ ,” he hissed in irritation.

**I** **_knew_ ** **it.**

 **Of course, there is only one man so** **_insane_ ** **.**

 **And** **_amazing_ ** **. You forgot, amazing.**

The man, Osbourne, snorted at the empty threat, glaring pointedly as he replied, “Well, I’ll have you know that I _am_ here for something, _Lukas_.”

 **(** “Twenty dollars that there will be a murder in an hour.” Kym whispered, bewildered as she witnessed the exchange. “Thirty dollars, and within fifteen minutes,” Liam hissed back, his knuckles white with how hard he balled his fists.

Surprising them all, Lila spoke up, stating, “Lukas may have certain temperaments, but he is no _murderer_ . Fifty dollars, and no murder.” She would have regretted her decision but what comes after drives the shock of the precinct to heights that haven’t been reached since Kym’s binge-eating incident. **)**

A certain set of words were exchanged, inaudible to the precinct.

**What words?**

**. . .** **_Secret_ ** **words.**

**Story for another time, darling.**

**And the story** **_ends_ ** **? Is that it?**

**Oh, no, my dear. There’s a lot left; I believe.**

Those words served to put a damper on the menacing aura Lukas carried with him. He exhaled deeply, not as inquiring as much as confirming, “. . . I take it you’re here for Hermann, then.”

The now shorter man gave a barked laugh. “Well, of course I am. You didn’t think that I’d come down here just to see little old you, did you?”, he said as he reached up and ruffled his hair.

Lukas gave a small noise of protest, moving his head away from Osbourne’s hand as he made to sit back down and resume his combing over the paperwork, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand. “You can go now. I believe you’ve caused enough confusion today.”

“Uh huh.” As he turned to presumably go to the Captain’s office, And with that Ozzy leaves, as Kym and Liam hand over money to Lila.

As he turned to presumably go to the Captain’s office, Kym took her piece of watermelon from Lila, who upon remembering the sticky thing she was holding reached for her handkerchief immediately. The sweetness of the fruit may have been perfect for Lila, but the mess eating it caused always seemed to deter her.

Just as she cleared her hand of the juice, Liam walked up to her, as did Kym, to hand her the coins. Ah, no murder and thirty pounds. With the bills in her hand, she caught Lukas’ eyes, and for a moment, she could have sworn that he looked amused, and if she wasn’t so consumed by the bias of her co-workers, she might’ve sworn that he had given her a soft smile.

**I like Lila. She’s nice.**

**She’s an amazing one. I still wonder how she even-**

**_Shut. Up._ **

While being quite pleased with having annoyed Lukas, Osbourne stepped into the hallway to go to Hermann’s office, determined to see his task done as to prove his secretary wrong. But it seemed that the day was determined to make his interactions as interesting as possible, for he managed to run into someone he _never_ expected to see again.

Making a hard left, his shoulder collided with another person. He instantly turned to acknowledge the figure, apologies on his lips until he took in who the person was.

Even without her pale skin, beautiful vermillion hair, and _pensive_ golden eyes, he would’ve recognized her attitude instantaneously. 

**Why are you snickering?**

**You said the word ‘** **_pensive_ ** **’.**

 **Do you** **_want_ ** **to hear the story?**

**Okay, fine. We’ll be quiet.**

Lauren Sinclair stared up at him, golden orbs meeting hazel green ones as her surprise turned into bemused curiosity.

“It’s _you_.”

“Why yes, it is, milady. I _do_ have a name, you know.”

“It’s _Officer_ to you, and so do I.”

They shared a breathy laugh as they exchanged brief greetings, Osbourne noticing a human of a rather quiet and uncharacteristically subdued form next to Lauren. His eyebrows raised in quiet surprise, putting a few assumptions together as his mouth morphed into a knowing smirk. 

“It is quite a pleasure to see you again, my lady,” he said, his eyes sparkling with playful jest, “I am also glad to see you’ve found yourself a man that pleases you.”

Lauren’s face flushed a blotchy red as she began to protest, “He’s not-”

“You _were_ always somewhat biased towards that beautiful cerulean shade. Oh, how I lament! The dull specks of green in these eyes of mine could _never_ be enough to win over your disdainful heart!”

**Is that how-**

**_Shut up._ **

Lauren tried not to laugh at his theatrics. “I assume you are here for the Captain. His office is the last one on the right.”

“Oh, how you cause me grief! So quick to dismiss me?”

A quirk of his eyebrow, and Lauren couldn’t help but sigh, putting up a façade once more, “I’d rather face _death_ than entertain you.”

Osbourne let out a hearty laugh, even as he walked away in response. Stepping close to the next turn of the hallway, he halted in his tracks. Turning to the pair at the other end, voice even and sure, a contrast from before, he called out, “Officer Sinclair.”

Lauren paused in her steps, having Kieran nearly collide into her back with how mindlessly he seemed to be walking. Glaring at him, she turned her attention to Osbourne, eyes raising up in a wordless behest to continue. 

Osbourne took a deep breath. Despite what he had become, and how busy he might have been, he was no stranger to the rumour mill, nor the snippet of facts that often contributed to them. 

“I am here for the ongoing investigation for case 01-H-4267.”

**Isn’t H for Homicide?**

**Yes. Yes, it is**.

Lauren visibly tensed, as did the man next to her. Osbourne took a step forward, all the humour leaving his form and words. With the same evenness that engulfed him, head held high, in front of a jury, he asked, “Did you kill him?”

“I did not.”

Osbourne stared at her for a good minute, at both of them. There was a lot he didn’t quite know. He was sure of it. It was the entire reason that half his home was filled to the brim with books. There was a lot he didn’t know, but he did know murderers, and Lauren Sinclair, it seemed, was not one. Probably. He was at least 70% sure about that. 

Satisfied for the time being, he turned around with a curt nod. Before continuing his walk, he called over his shoulder, “Good.” He paused briefly before adding a pinch of jest, “Don’t do anything _too_ scandalous, you lovebirds.” 

Osbourne did not have the time to observe the reaction of the two of them, but if he did, he would’ve waited to watch Ms. Sinclair see the Sinclair girl and watch (watch the Sinclair girl) as her face became the same shade as her artful locks. 

_But alas!_ Perhaps there would be another time for the quips and banter. He brushed off his coat, as he finally reached the Captain’s office, falling into his professional persona once more. There would be another time for all things levitious of heart, but for now, he had a homicide to collect evidence for. 

Amidst the fresh chaos and confusion that had ensued, all the officers had gathered at Liam’s desk, Lila not able to help it, finding herself amongst them as well. There was a feeling of a page fluttering in the wind that was out of reach and yet, so close that if she strained herself a bit more, she could almost grasp it. If only she could remember . . . 

“He seemed familiar. I’m sure of it.” Lila mused; her eyebrows pinched together in determined concentration.

The only person to be paying any attention to her was the Lieutenant. William rubbed a palm over his neck, eyes flitting to Lukas unsurely as he spoke, “Actually, I think so too.” 

The rest of the officers didn’t pay particular attention to them, far too busy reeling from the interaction they had just witnessed, placing another round of bets on whether or not Officer Randall had actually been replaced with an imposter. Lila walked over to her desk, with that exact thought in her mind. 

**Is that what happened?**

**It was hilarious, and** **_annoying_ ** **. Though, mostly hilarious.**

**I would’ve made the same assumption.**

Kym’s small hands caught Will’s broad shoulders, shaking them, “Can’t you believe it? A legendary man escaping Grumpy Cat’s wrath!” 

Will plucked her hands off of him with his own, only to have nearly been smacked with Liam’s hand as he dramatically waved, as if conversing with the gods, “A man named Osbourne, capable of coming out of the deadly exchange unscathed.”

Taking a step back from the exasperating theatrics, he wondered if Kym should be allowed to interact with the new hires _at all_. She only seemed to be inducting more people to her cult of personality. As he made to return to his desk, something clicked for him, making him turn back around. 

_Wait._

Leaning on a desk nearby, he eyed them both, inquiring, “Osbourne? As in Osbourne, one of the three partners at Triple O?” 

Pouting at having had her fun cut short, Kym picked up her mug, Liam cocked his head at him like a curious puppy.

Somewhat disappointed but not surprised at their lack of recent knowledge, William waved his hands around, “The one who won three cases in a row? The only person in Ardhalis to have put a Scythe member behind bars?”

“Besides Lune of course.” Kym added, sipping on her coffee.

William snorted, “Let me rephrase that. The only person in Ardhalis to have _legally_ put a Scythe member behind bars.” 

The door to the office opened once more, and the room fell silent again. Turning their heads in sequence, much like cogs in a machine, William, Kym and Liam stared at the open door. Had Osbourne come back so soon? 

When that familiar red hair made it into their line of vision, they all gave a collective sigh of uneasy relief. Lauren noticed her colleagues’ unease, glancing around in confusion, pointedly at Kym. She huffed, eyeing the group huddled on Liam’s desk. Reaching for Kym, she whispered, “Just my luck to have Osbourne handling Sake’s case.”

Kym’s ears perked up at Lauren’s tone, “You know him, too?” 

“Too?”

Even as Lauren stood confused, Kym walked away from Lauren and took a turn. Her immaculate memory serving her once more, she drawled, a smirk in place, “Oh, I get it now. You _know_ him.” Her smirk grew wider as she further inquired, “Is it _that_ Osbourne?”

Lauren grimaced, “Yes, it’s _that_ Osbourne.”

“So, the watery-peas Osbourne and the Attorney Osbourne are the same man?” 

William, Lauren and Kym turned to stare at Liam, who shrugged nonchalantly. Lauren’s failed dates weren’t exactly a secret, nor a well-kept one at that, and so, they didn’t bother asking Liam how he knew. She looked at Kym and simply shrugged in acceptance. 

They considered the information, looking at each other, and Lauren’s eyes had never looked more pensive, piecing together information in her mind, as a gaping hole stared back at her. Something was _missing_ . Something _central_ . Something _important_. 

What could they have possibly missed?

**Right** **_there_ ** **on the-**

**_Hush!_ **

**Don’t** **_spoil_ ** **it for the rest.**

**Alright, alright.**

Lila came rushing across the length of the workspace, bending over as her chest heaved. It wasn’t even a half-minute walk, why did she need to catch her breath? 

She waved her hand in front of them as she steadily regained her ability to breathe, a silent request for them to listen, as she breathed out in small huffs of oxygen and carbon dioxide, “The- the brother-”

Kym, being her usual overdramatic self, moved to rub her back in slow circles, “It’s okay, breather. What brother?”

Finally, catching her breath, she stood up straight, eyes lighting up. 

“I _told_ you he seemed familiar! It’s _his_ brother. _Lukas’_ brother. Osbourne _Randall_.” 

She flattened a visitor’s form on the table, filled in unbelievably jittery handwriting. Liam was the first to begin reading it, that is if he could read the scrawl at all, “Alright, ‘Name of Visitor: Adv. Osbourne Randall’.”

“ _Gods,_ this is torture,” Kym griped as she placed her finger to hopefully help decipher the squibbles, “‘Purpose of Visit: Investigation Case: 01-H-4267.’ We knew that already.” 

Looking over her shoulder, William quipped with a ‘it’s not any worse than yours, Ladell’ before continuing to read without much difficulty ‘Dept./Person Visiting: Captain of 11th Precinct.’ He _did_ say that he was here for Hermann.”

Lila perked at the reading, realizing her mistake, “Oh, sorry. Wrong page.” Leaning over the lieutenant, She plucked the page in two fingers and flipped it to reveal another more damning form underneath. 

Lauren read the words aloud, not sure for herself what was on the paper, 

“Purpose of Visit: Family matters. Dept./Person Visiting: Officer Lukas Randall/Patrol Unit (Brother)” 

Lukas had already gotten himself another cup of coffee, Osbourne’s advice be damned. It wasn’t as if he was the epitome of keeping healthy, and in almost any case, Lukas’ habits were healthier than his. Walking to the office from the break room, he paused with his hand on the door, with a small smile, despite himself. 

He had noted how Osbourne had filled the visitors forms and left it on Ms. Desroses’ desk. He also knew that Lila was a dedicated worker and would surely notice the forms as well. Well. The cat had to get out of the bag someday, with a brother like Osbourne. The most that Lukas could hope for would be that no one would find out anything from Osbourne himself. 

Lukas walked into the room, slipping his signature scowl back in place as he sipped his coffee. The rest of his colleagues didn’t pay much attention to him, thankfully, lost amongst themselves in heated conversation, as Lila stood in the midst of them. As if sensing his gaze, she turned, looking at him sheepishly. 

Before she could say anything, Lukas nodded at her, wordlessly returning to his desk. Coffee in hand, he glared at the files on his desk, steadily piecing his usual self together even as snippets of their conversation inevitably caught his attention, such as: ‘brother’, ‘Osbourne’, ‘how’, ‘lies’. 

Lila came back to her seat, leaving the shell-shocked group to themselves. She sat down, giving Lukas a brief apologetic smile before turning away to her work. Turning his attention to his own work, Lukas took a deep breath. 

It was going to be a long couple of days. 

**_It was going to be a long couple of days._ **

**What?**

**_I’ve_ ** **heard this story too many times.**

**Would you like us to stop, then?**

**. . . No, the others haven’t heard it before.**

**Alright, then, kids.**

**Are you ready for-**

**-the Adventures of Ozzy-**

**-and Luka?**

_Are you ready?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, Sauvage here. Bet you didn't expect me to go from angst to crack, did you? Anyways, this project has been about a good few weeks in the making and we are excited to share it with you all! Let's see where this goes, shall we?
> 
> Peace, here. Did we plan this, yes? Did we plan to fall so far in this rabbit hole that we love our OCs more than the actual canon characters? Hmmmmm. You'll have to wait to find out!! Also, would love to hear your thoughts on what _you_ think is going on over here!!


	2. Fascinating Findings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And where should I presume _you_ are going now?” 
> 
> So much for rushing _quietly_. 
> 
> A hint of exasperation and a pint of tiredness flowed in the voice that had made him pause. He turned around, steeling himself. “Well good morning to you _too_ , Ms. _Bordeaux_ ,” he drawled as he leaned against the wall adjacent to the door, praying for a diversion, even if for a speck of a moment, that would allow him to leave. 

**_Luka_ ** **.**

 **You** **_know_ ** **I despise it.**

 **You** **_agreed_ ** **to this.**

 **That has** **_nothing_ ** **to do with me despising the byname.**

**You love it still.**

Ozzy exhaled a sigh of relief as he set down the now sorted pile of paperwork and put them neatly in the ashened streaked tray at the edge of his desk. He stretched in his seat, limbs and back drawn out like a cat, palms wide and arms reaching towards the light fixture on the ceiling as satisfying pops and cracks audibly harmonized all over. He looked over his desk and his completed workload for the beginning of the day. A brief wave of satisfaction flowed over him before inevitably, _boredom_ set in. 

Looking about the open door to his private office, he spied the secretary and the accountant of their humble establishment in deep conversation. Paying close attention, he figured out that it was about the usual. Simply, more _mundane_ things such as inventory, sorting, and objects of that nature. 

Cracking his knuckles, the gears of his brain began to turn. He supposed he could always do more paperwork, but then the secretary would throw a hissy fit. He would attempt to help the accountant, if not for the _incident_ during the first few weeks of her employment. It was indefinitely clear from her face whenever he so much as _neared_ the accountancy records in passing that she would _never_ let him touch the books again. He sighed in abject stagnation, propped up on his arm, plopping his chin onto his palm. 

_Well_ , he mused to himself, _there_ was _Sake’s case, albeit with no evidence of getting solved, and yet Hermann was giving Sinclair hell._ Tapping his desk in thought, he finally decided on what to do. He _must_ go to the 11th precinct yet again, just to make sure that he was as thorough as possible. Reenergized, akin to a toy with its spring wound up, he stood from his chair, grabbed his coat, unceremoniously shoved his briefcase under his arm, and rushed towards the exit of the main office area with light steps. Towards _freedom_. 

“And where should I presume _you_ are going now?” 

So much for rushing _quietly_. 

A hint of exasperation and a pint of tiredness flowed in the voice that had made him pause. He turned around, steeling himself. “Well good morning to you _too_ , Ms. _Bordeaux_ ,” he drawled as he leaned against the wall adjacent to the door, praying for a diversion, even if for a speck of a moment, that would allow him to leave. 

**This might get** **_Osbourne_ ** **killed some day.**

 **Is it** **_infuriating_ ** **? The** **_sass_ ** **?** **_Truly_ ** **?**

**I hadn’t even noticed.**

“You’re _not_ going to the 11th, again.” She said, cutting to the chase and walking over all the ploys that would get her spiralling down the rabbit hole of, for the sake of _civility_ , let’s call it _conversation_ . She remembered in vivid detail the _last_ time she entertained his ever-so-expansive spiels.

Ozzy gave her a twisted grin, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “Guilty as charged!” 

“ _Mr. Randall_ -”

_Och. Whipping that out already? It’s barely nine in the morning!_ Ozzy couldn’t help but duck his head, as if her clipped and sharp words were a projectile hurtling towards him, muttering irritably under his breath.

“What was that?”, the accountant asked, raising a neatly groomed eyebrow in a pointed question.

“It’s nothing.” He said briefly, making his way towards the door before she could say more, “I have to get the details about Sake’s case.”

“Uh huh,” she muttered, hooking her arm through his and _not-at-all-gently_ tugging him along. Char spoke, while taking his briefcase from him, and pushing him into his office, “Osbourne, there are no leads. You don’t need to go to these lengths for this case. I can count on both hands the number of cases that actually _need_ your effort.” 

She set down the briefcase in place, taking a look over the pile of papers on Ozzy’s desk, who groaned, walking up to her, “Come _on_ , I’ve already done all of the work for those today, and I just happen to be free-”

She pointed one of her slender fingers at his face, “Oh _please_ , you’re _never_ free-”

Appalled, he took a step forward, “I _do_ stay late if need be-” 

Crossing her arms, she glared at him, “And fall asleep on your desk, to _what_ ? Scare the secretary into _cardiac arrest_ , first thing in the morning-”

A loud cough interrupted their pleasant- 

**Pleasant?** ****

**_Pleasant_ ** **?**

 **Yes,** **_pleasant_ ** **.**

 **It actually has** **_benefits_ ** **such as reducing stress from work.**

 **_Sure_ ** **.**

A loud cough interrupted their _pleasant_ bickering. A slight blush came over Char’s face as the subject of their conversation stood at the door, his face scrunched up in annoyance, as if the crook of his eyebrows grumbled, _I’ve been here hardly an hour, and you’re fighting, again?_

A pointed look from him was enough to send the pair across the length of the room to opposite ends, Osbourne to stand beside the door, and Char to the oak-framed windows lining the far wall. 

Humbled down to civil discussion once more, she asked, her sharp green eyes pinning his conscience to the spot, “Why are you _really_ going to the precinct?” 

Ozzy raked a hand through his hair, lightly tugging at the edges, and curling them around his fingers. He stated, firm in his beliefs, “I am going down there for _the case_.”

Making a mental note to add an appointment with the barber to his schedule, the woman pressed on, waving a hand over his case notes on the desk, “The case that does _not_ have any more evidence than you already do?”

“I _just_ want to see my beloved brother.” 

A statement that wouldn’t have come out as a question had his spotty hazel eyes not been pinned in place by her vibrant green orbs. 

Ms. Bordeaux gave him her signature deadpan stare, a neutral thing that betrayed nothing of what went on in her mind, but still managed to make him squirm on the inside nonetheless. After a moment, she snorted, leaning on the window wall. “More likely _annoy_ your poor brother.”

Ozzy gave a light chuckle, “Come now, it’s not like I _harass_ him while he’s at work.” 

“And yet he tells me different,” she said, amusement briefly lighting up her features before settling into her typical professionalism. “That’s not much of a reason to leave the office, Osbourne. You can't just leave whenever you _feel_ like it.”

“I _know_ that, but I have to see him anyway,” he said, his dark eyebrows pinched for a moment as his face dimmed uncharacteristically, and then relaxed just as fast as he shut his eyes. 

Noting his worried gaze, she let out a soft whisper, “Admitting to being a _bother_?” 

Ozzy looked up at her once more, mouth let open in astonishment, before settling into a smile. He teased, light-heartedly, “Admitting to being _partial_ ?” He sighed dramatically, a hand on his forehead, “Here I was thinking that your middle name must be _Justice_?” 

Char straightened up, glaring at him as she walked towards him, “Well, you have to see to your work.” 

“We both know I’m all caught up,” he rolled his eyes, walking to his briefcase on the desk, “You’re just being partial because you _like_ Lukas.” 

She let out a huff, stating, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “He _is_ the more tolerable out of the both of you after all.” She shook her head, leaning on his desk, as he gave her the _most_ innocent smile he could have mustered. 

“Oswald and Orwell will be waiting for you at eleven for the weekly briefing.” 

They both whipped their heads to the secretary, now seated in Ozzy’s chair.

**That man knows** **_everything_ ** **. He knows** **_magic_ ** **.**

**No, he doesn’t.**

**Yes, he** **_does_ ** **.**

**Take it from me, he doesn’t.**

**Having two oblivious people in one place does that to the people around them.**

**Shut up.**

Sharing twin looks of concern, they looked at each other for a moment, until Ozzy broke from the gaze, smiling, “ _Oh_ ? Then, I believe I am a _free_ man. _Thank you_ , my good sir.”

Affronted, she took the briefcase from Ozzy once more. Looking at the seated man, she chided, “Don’t _enable_ him, Mr. Kovac.”

Flipping through the case notes and stapling them together for Ozzy, the man snorted at the scene unfolding in front of him, “I’m not enabling him, Charlene. Simply, letting him know of his schedule.”

“See? I _am_ free!” Ozzy crowed, seizing his briefcase back from her. An air of victory floating around him as he made his way to and through the door that led down to the lobby, he called over his shoulder, “Try not to miss me too much.” 

Charlene snorted with mirth and amusement, calling back, “I would never.” She smirked at the man, as they moved out of Ozzy’s office, whispering low, “Am I to believe it has _nothing_ to do with the headache that Osbourne is for you?” 

Mr. Kovac shrugged, “He is _more_ of a headache with unaddressed worries.” 

Ozzy called out one last time, as the elevator doors pinged open, “Jocelyn? Josie?” Then, taking a moment to ponder for a second, he incredulously whispered in mock horror, “ _Joseph_?” 

**(** The rest of the workers on the floor carried on with their work, though half their minds were surely on the shenanigans carried on by Charlene and Osbourne. Despite being a daily occurrence, they never stopped being amusing. Mr. Kovac shook his head at the pair. **)**

For the first time since the day began, Charlene let herself truly smile in delight. Raising her fingers, slowly in tandem, she mused, “ _Three_ strikes already, and all _wrong_ answers.”

Ozzy called out, in lieu of a goodbye, as the elevator doors shut, “I _will_ win this. I _always_ win.” 

**(** Suppressing any further commentary at their antics, the secretary walked away as Charlene replied to his spit sure assurance. Stacking Ozzy’s case notes on top of another pile to make into copies, Mr. Kovac walked away with the papers in hand, as silence befell the floor and the office went back to its regular thrum of productivity. **)**

**(** Lila Desroses sat dutifully at her desk, the keys on her typewriter filling the void left from the typically loud and boisterous room with their clicks and clacks. With the officers busy in the daily rounds, the office was silent, despite having Lauren Sinclair sitting at her desk. Then, again, Ms. Sinclair was hardly talkative without the Sergeant around to nudge her. 

Looking at her hunched form, going over files and filling out paperwork, Lila couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Lauren concerning this whole business surrounding Sake’s murder alongside the alleged suspicion on her involving it. Exhaling a brief sigh, she made to take the paper she had been typing up out of the typewriter, her body automatically making its way to the growing pile of files that was the precursor to the endless stream of paperwork that the precinct filled out every day. **)**

Expertly sliding the paper into one of the many files in the stack, she made to prepare herself to carry them to her desk when a somewhat familiar voice rang out as clear as a bell: 

“Ms. Desroses! Good morning to you.”

Lila turned to the voice, noticing a head of dark hair poking in from outside the door. Her tawny brown eyes met briefly with orbs of hazel speckled with splotches of green as a bright grin lit up the desolate room.

“Oh, Mr. Randall! Good morning to you as well!” Lila chirped happily, returning his smile with a small one of her own.

Lauren Sinclair briefly looked up from her paperwork at the mention of his name, spying him now standing in the doorway before returning to her work, greeting him with a single wave of her hand.

“Osbourne, please, though my friends call me Ozzy,” he mused as he entered the room, putting his hat on the desk conveniently next to him. Lila smiled, wondering what reason he would have to show up in the patrol unit’s office three days in a row.

“Ozzy, it is, then.”

**Meet someone** **_once_ ** **, and burden them with being your friend.**

**Sure.**

**It is an amazing friendship,** **_regardless_ ** **.**

**That it is.**

Taking one look at the pile of files and papers that Lila stood next to on the desk, he went and lifted the host of sheets. Flustered, Lila started to protest, but he quickly replied, “It’s okay. You shouldn’t have to lift something so heavy on your body anyways. Where to?”

Lila made a general motion to her desk, her face dusted with light pink as she watched him gently plop down the pile of sheets with little to no effort at all. Gratefully relieved at not having to haul the papers over to her desk herself, she set about another minor, but all the more _meaningful_ , task before her. 

**(** Skirting the edges of the room, Lila made her way to the precinct’s break room, the small tiled space home to the old coffee machine that a good majority of the precinct treated as a fountain of life and interim cognizance. It was a good idea to ask Osbourne beforehand, given how _horrified_ he had seemed at the suggestion of a cup of coffee. She only allowed herself one cup a day, the contents containing a helping of creamer and a pinch of cinnamon to battle the bitterness.

Hands hovering over the mugs as the tea came to a bubbling, Lila paused, catching a glinting from the clock hung above. Five minutes to five, and about three to walk around the block. Taking another clean mug, she set out a brew, much stronger than hers. It had become an uncanny habit in the past few weeks. Its recipient preferred their coffee black and strong, so much so that she could already smell the sharpness of the beans on the dark, inky surface of the pot. 

Lila liked to think that the way someone took their coffee spoke a lot about them as a person; Lauren took hers black with only the purpose of obtaining caffeine in mind, Kym would dump a decent- to her opinion _overwhelming_ \- amount of sugar and creamer in her coffee, while the Lieutenant took his coffee black with barely half a spoonful of sugar, and the archivist seemed to be avoiding coffee from the precinct for some reason. Maybe coffee didn’t suit him?

_Ah, the tea!_ **)**

Pouring the tea, Lila walked out with all four mugs, three of coffee and one of tea, neatly in a tray. If Lila figured out that Osbourne began to talk to her, simply to get a measure on the officers in the precinct, she didn’t mention it. If Osbourne figured out that the unexpected cup of an unbearably dark roast that lay on her desk was meant for his brother, he didn’t mention it either.

Patrol had never been the kindest for Lukas, especially on a day so cold. December had quite the tendency to wrap him in its _icy_ embrace, the falling flakes of snow doing little to help him assume the façade of indifference against the steadily dropping temperature. It was _cold_ . He was _freezing_ and finally being able to step inside the office was a _blessing_.

**I thought that cats had a** **_tolerance_ ** **for the cold.**

 **Oh, I’ll show you** **_exactly_ ** **how** **_intolerant_ ** **I can be.**

The only thought gracing him as he leapt inside the building was that of a good warm cup of coffee. However, duties first. With Sinclair being benched, they were down on manpower, and paperwork awaited him _before_ the break room. His hands clenched around the handle, eyes glaring at the break room two doors down.

Just one more report.

With a sigh, he walked into the office, ready to lurch to his seat. His eyes glazed over to where Lila sat, lost in conversation with whoever sat next to her. He promised himself to pointedly avoid her eyes. They had already said hello this morning. Yesterday, he had already let loose how he wouldn’t miss the office party if she was there. Albeit, it wasn’t so obvious to the common eye and ears, with the confession merely being a sprinkle of emotion amidst his usual threats and aura. _Yet_ , he couldn’t help but wonder.

Was it becoming _too obvious_?

Lukas shook his head, and he had nearly acted on his resolve. At least, until he heard the familiar voice that had been running through his head for nearly a week. The same voice that was now in conversation with Lila. 

“And then he was sick for a week from it!”

No.

_No._

He simply thought the mop of black hair possibly belonged to the archivist. He did seem to be getting along well with Lila, and with Sinclair stuck in the office, he was half expecting them to be seated together. Sinclair, though, was hunched lifelessly over some papers on her desk. Lila was laughing lightly, a beaming smile on her face, and it warmed his heart just to hear it from her outstretched lips. The _other_ voice, however? Well, _shi-_

**_Ouch._ **

**Don’t say that word!**

**They can hear about** **_murders_ ** **and** **_hell_ ** **and** **_death threats_ ** **, but not** **_sh_ ** **-**

 **_Someone_ ** **is going to kill me for this. I** **_know_ ** **it.**

 **As long as they** **_don’t_ ** **repeat it? To** **_anyone_ ** **else?**

**I believe that should be okay.**

**Alright.**

Well, _shit_. 

Stopping at Ms. Desroses desk, hands crossed in front of him, Lukas gritted, “ _What_ are you doing?”

Lila remarked, “Oh, Lukas!”

Spinning in the chair, Ozzy grinned, “Ah, brother _dearest_. You’re back! I was having a nice chit-chat with sweet Lila over here.”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t you have things to do?”

Ozzy leaned on his chair, cocking an eyebrow to go with his self-satisfied smirk, “What makes you think I’m _not_ doing them?” 

Lukas fixed his glare on him, “The fact that you’re here, bothering her. _Honestly_ , Osbourne. The third time just this week?”

Ozzy’s smirk only grew, “ _Oh_? Is that so?”

Lila’s eyes flitted between the two men. From what she had known so far, Lukas loved his brother to death. However, she couldn’t help but add nervously, “Your brother is a delight, Lukas. He wasn’t bothering me at all.”

A Cheshire-cat smile, and he drawled in the warmth of a win, “See? I’m _not_ bothering Lila. She said so herself. And I’m surely not bothering you?”

Lukas glared at him wordlessly, even as the rest of the officers made their way back. Then, reluctantly, he spoke, “I know exactly what you’re doing.”

Ozzy snickered, “Well, aren’t I glad to know that you are aware of how conversation works?” 

**Ozzy is** **_looking_ ** **to be stabbed.**

 **_That_ ** **isn’t a part of** **_this_ ** **story.**

 **_Wait_ ** **. Why are you laughing I-**

 **Don’t you** **_dare_ ** **bring** **_that_ ** **up.**

 **See,** **_here_ ** **is what happened-**

**~~~ Four nights ago ~~~**

Drying another dish, Lukas growled, curbing down his urge to scream at Ozzy, “What do _I_ want? I want _you_ to realize that bleeding on my doorstep is _not_ a good way to say hello!”

**Bleeding on his doorstep?**

**That happened** **_once_ ** **.**

 **That’s still** **_one too many times_ ** **!**

 **I agree, and if even** **_I_ ** **agree, you** **_must_ ** **know that** **_Ozzy_ ** **is in the wrong.**

Ozzy waved the dish in his hands at him to keep quiet. It was enough to have Lukas come after him and ask him to take it easy. He didn’t need their parents to get worried as well. Ever the wrangler, he whispered, “That happened _once_.”

Grabbing another dish from Ozzy, Lukas gritted, “Oh, it’s looking to happen _twice_ now!” Ozzy shook the bubbles off of his hands, watching them burst the moment they came in contact with the cool metal of the sink. 

“ _Twice_.” 

Lukas drawled, choosing to punctuate the word on Ozzy’s arm with the whip of a kitchen towel. Catching the towel, Ozzy treaded lightly, “Luka, _listen_ . Wood and Sake died in the same manner as other _Scythe_ assassinations. There is no way that you _don’t_ have a Scythe member in your precinct.”

It wasn’t something that hadn’t already run through Lukas’ head. _Hell_ , he believed that almost everyone at the precinct had boarded a similar train of thought. Leaning against the kitchen island, he asked, “And you believe that it is Sinclair. Lauren _‘bashed Sake’s head into a mirror’_ Sinclair?”

Ozzy smiled, all the hint of a streaking charm hidden beneath it, “It’s not my place to say that.“

Lukas huffed a humourless laugh, “It’s not your place to _investigate_ either.” He spun the dish in his hand, and Ozzy grabbed it mid spin. Rubbing his temple, Lukas sighed, “Dear _gods_ , you are an _advocate_.”

Keeping the dish in its rightful place on the rack, Ozzy spoke, “Hermann wants Sinclair to be taken off of the force, and I simply want to catch the real culprit.”

Lukas stepped back, shaking his head, “Catching the culprit is an officer’s job. _My_ job. Your job is to prove Sinclair’s innocence, if innocent is what she is.”

Ozzy shrugged, leaning into the hall to make sure that their parents weren’t overhearing the conversation. He sighed, “Even if she is innocent, all your lives are still in danger.” Staring at Lukas, pleadingly, he added, “I’m allowed to worry about my little brother, aren’t I?”

The force of his pleading eyes left him the very moment that Lukas looked up, fear etched into his form. Uncharacteristically, he whispered softly, “Ozzy, _please_.”

Taken aback by the sincerity on Lukas’ face, Ozzy was struck silent. Turning away, Lukas spoke a little louder, “Stay the hell _away_ from the precinct.” 

**Of course,** **_Ozzy_ ** **is a little** **_f_ ** **-**

 **_Ouch_ ** **. . .** **_shit_ ** **who doesn’t listen.**

 **It’s not as if** **_Luka_ ** **is any better.**

 **_Boys_ ** **. Stop that.**

 **Regardless,** **_Ozzy_ ** **has an issue.**

Unimpressed by the retort, Lukas glared at Ozzy as the memory from four nights ago resurfaced. He stared at Ozzy, belting out a warning, loud and clear, “I have a gun. I wouldn’t mind using it.” 

Ozzy laughed, unabashedly. The rest of the officers simply ignored the ruckus. One week is enough time to grow used to the presence of unexpected chaos. The aftermath was always, well, _unexpected_ , and so, the officers had grown to simply expect the unexpected, as far as the Randall brothers were considered. 

Before Lukas could let loose another threat, however, another bane of his existence butted into the conversation.

“Oh, you _tyrant_ ! Don’t you _dare_ harm a hair on this brilliant man’s head.”

Coat hung over half her shoulder, Ladell walked up to Lila’s desk, winking at her in greeting. She turned to Ozzy, with a cheer in her voice, “ _Ozzy_ ! The sole guiding light in a rather bleak week. We are _thrilled_ to have you here with us.”

Getting up from his seat, Ozzy chuckled, “Sarge, you flatter me.”

Kym waved him off, “As you should be, you _charmer_ . The _only_ man in this precinct with a good head on his shoulders.”

“That’s _exactly_ what you said about White. Just _last_ week”, William pointed out, walking up to the spectacle. 

Making a face, Kym huffed dejectedly, “Oh, _Willame_ . You’re just jealous because you are _not_ charming.” 

William glared at Kym, about to retort, when an unexpected snort broke through the tension. All five of them whipped their heads, eyes ending up at Lauren, who simply rolled hers at them and buried herself into her work. 

Ozzy turned back to Lila and Lukas, not before noticing the slight blush on the Sergeant’s face and the blank look on the Lieutenant’s. He looked back at Sinclair for a moment, who was smiling to herself. _Huh_. 

_Interesting_. 

Working around the sudden drop in the air, Ozzy teased, “Well, of course, it is a _shame_ , Lieutenant. It could do you well to ease up a little.”

Backtracking to her contagious humor, Kym added, “And focus _less_ on paperwork?”

Ozzy led onto the path she paved, “And _more_ on extra activities around the precinct?” 

They rambled on, creating a ruckus that even took William back by its intensity. Petrified, he whispered, “Dear _gods_ , there’s _two_ of them.”

**My thoughts exactly. A** **_travesty_ ** **.**

 **_Oi_ ** **, as if** **_you_ ** **know anything about humor, in the** **_least_ ** **.**

His last chance at redemption and Lukas grabbed onto it, a man drowning in sin. The sin being letting his brother find out where he worked. Outrage in his eyes, he nearly shook the Lieutenant, “Ban him from the precinct _already_.” 

William gasped, watching in abject horror, and a bit of another nameless sentiment, as Kym showed Ozzy to her watermelon stock. He sighed, “I _can’t_. Sake’s case isn’t resolved yet.”

That seemed to have caught Ozzy’s attention, as he spun around, a watermelon slice in hand. He looked up at Lukas, “Ban _me_ ? _Truly_? Oh, you really are bothered right now.” 

Lukas bit out, “I am bothered by your existence, yes. _All_ the time.”

Ozzy placed the slice neatly on the Sergeant’s desk. Back with that insufferable grin, he walked up to Lukas, “No, my dear. You are bothered by my existence, in _this_ space particularly, aren’t you?”

Lukas stood his ground, “Oh, yes, I am. I _already_ have to put up with Ladell.”

Ladell whined, biting into her slice of watermelon, “ _Oi_ , don’t drag me into this!”

Foregoing the urge to slam his head against the wall or scream at Ladell (though truly speaking it must have been a bit of both of those things), William began to speak, “Yes, please. It is an insult to Osb-” 

The man in question stared at him wounded, and so, William corrected himself, “ _Ozzy_ . It would be an insult to _Ozzy_ to call him as bothersome as- _Kym!_ ” 

William rushed to her table, to scold her for yet another inanity, and Lukas took his chance. He groaned, “Why aren’t you going back already?”

_We discussed this._

_That was not a discussion._

**A discussion is a serious conversation.**

**It was a conversation. I was serious.**

**That is** **_not_ ** **what a discussion is.**

 **That is** **_exactly_ ** **what a discussion is.**

Unnerved to a certain degree by the frown on Lukas’ face, he shrugged, “I had time on my hands.”

Lukas rolled his eyes, “And you _also_ have three hearings today. It’s a surprise Ms. Bordeaux isn’t here to drag you back. Or did you mess up the books, _again_?”

Ozzy chuckled, eyes flowing over the officers in the precinct, “You’re being petty, even _more_ than usual. Afraid I’d spill all your secrets to your friends?” 

Lukas huffed, turning to his seat, “They are _nuisances_ at best.”

Catching his arm, Ozzy whispered conspiratorially, his gaze pointing to the first table by the door, “Oh, then, you’re just afraid of what I might say to _sweet, sweet Lila_?”

Lukas flailed, the lack of an immediate answer robbing him of words. 

**No, Lukas** **_didn’t_ ** **.**

 **He definitely** **_did_ ** **.**

 **_No_ ** **. He** **_didn’t_ ** **. You** **_bas_ ** **-**

 **_Did too_ ** **.**

Thankfully, Kym broke free from her rambling with William and interjected, “Randall, you are _not_ making Ozzy go back!”

William stepped beside her, crossing his arms as he glared at her, “Civilians aren’t allowed to _hang out_ in the precinct for no reason, Sergeant.” His gaze softened into perfected complacence as he looked up at the Randalls, “No offence, Ozzy.”

Replying in kind to his glare with one of her own, Kym muttered, “ _Killjoy_.”

Smiling at the pair, he walked to Lila’s desk, grabbing his briefcase, “That’s alright, Lieutenant. I understand, and unfortunately, I _do_ have prior engagements and I wouldn’t want _Ms. Bordeaux_ to come over here.”

Kym walked up to him, following him to the door, “ _Ozzy_ .” He paused, spinning around in place. Eyes teary, clearly from an indulgence for the arts, she stood still. Ignoring Will’s off-handed rebuke in the backdrop, she continued, “I will wait for the day you come back, to spark life into this _dull_ , _lifeless hellhole_.”

Ozzy smiled at her, tipping his hat, “My dear, I shall try my _best_ to keep my end of the bargain as well.” Bowing exaggeratedly, he placed a light kiss on Kym’s knuckle and leaves. The Lieutenant and Sergeant go back to their bickering, Lukas, however, stays, glaring holes at the closed precinct door from his perch on his desk. 

_Should he trust Ozzy to keep himself safe?_

_No._

_Absolutely not._

_Where_ was _his mind to wander off in such a hapless, commendably stupid direction?_

Knocked out of his reveries by a sound, he turned to look at Lila, who upon catching his attention seemed to be repeating herself, “ . . I said that if you don’t mind me asking, Lukas, why are you so _hostile_ towards Ozzy? It is quite clear how much you adore him.”

Caught unaware by her observation, Lukas begins to speak up, only to find himself measuring his words once more. He recovered quickly though, with a pinch of sarcasm, “Osbourne is _tolerable_ . _At best_.” 

A hand on her mouth, Lila tries to hide it, but the disbelieving chuckle still comes through. Lukas stares at her for a moment, the crinkling of her eyes, the soft shaking of her shoulders, her fingers curling in on themselves as she waved at him, probably trying to explain to him how she truly hadn’t meant to laugh out loud. 

How could he let _that_ happen? 

**I am** **_not_ ** **implying that even then Luka-**

 **Then,** **_don’t_ ** **imply.**

 **_Oh?_ ** **Someone is grumpy.**

**Shut up.**

How could he possibly let her apologize for blessing his eyes with such a lovely sight, and his ears with such an infectious sound? Before she could say a word, he shrugged in explanation, “He is simply reckless, that’s all.” Then, he found himself adding, “I worry for him.” 

Lukas didn’t quite know how or why he found himself saying these things out loud, and that too, to _Lila_ , of all people, and yet, the abundant fondness in her smile only made his heart lighter. Almost as if she saw right through him, as if she understood what really went on in his heart. 

Considering his words, smile as sweet as ever, she offered her two cents, “Then, tell him _that_ and he might hear you out?”

Lukas snorted at the innocence in her voice, “I did, and he’s _still_ insufferable.”

That, even she could see. _Inexorable_ and _insufferable_. Much like someone else she had come to know. No wonder they were brothers. Understanding, Lila smiled at him, “I’m sure he’ll come around.” 

Ducking his head, Lukas moved to his seat, “Thank you.” His eyes glazed over her desk, before he picked up the warm mug that now sat on his. Inhaling the strong scent of freshly brewed coffee, he wondered how so much could change in such little time. 

Lukas may have been saying it quite a lot lately ( _more than he did to someone else for sure_ ), and yet, he was convinced that there were more reasons than he had considered for him to be expressing gratitude. Especially when it came to _one_ Lila Desroses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a shot of water every time someone in this fic says _Shut up_ WOOOHOO HAHAHAHA  
> Peace here! Did we introduce two OCs? Did we try to stick to a weekly schedule? Did we fail anyway? Did I just end up my part today? All _yes_ s but the only _yes_ I care for is the question: Did you like this chapter? 👀  
> See you soon!!! ( _Hopefully_ )
> 
> Heyo, Sauvage here. A whole bunch of stuff happened in this chapter, but if you notice the small fanon reference, you're an absolute god. Hopefully you enjoyed this! (Also if you notice that the chapter length was doubled no you didn't <3)


	3. Articulate A(peas)ment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the frosty winter breeze tickled the exposed skin left barren by his long, dark, fur-lined coat, he rubbed his hands, the fresh layer of snow crunching underneath his boots and the puffs of his breath crystallizing into mist upon coming into contact with the cold air. The external surroundings, however, remained _external_ , doing nothing to abet the warmness coursing throughout his body at that present moment, in, one would daresay, _anticipation_ of what the night taunted to become.

For the fifth consecutive time in his routine trek back to his humble abode, Lukas Randall allowed himself to shiver.

As the frosty winter breeze tickled the exposed skin left barren by his long, dark, fur-lined coat, he rubbed his hands, the fresh layer of snow crunching underneath his boots and the puffs of his breath crystallizing into mist upon coming into contact with the cold air. The external surroundings, however, remained _external_ , doing nothing to abet the warmness coursing throughout his body at that present moment, in, one would daresay, _anticipation_ of what the night taunted to become.

Not because of a particularly cute secretary attending the party as well no, the event would be rife with blackmail to collect on his fellow coworkers; he would be a fool to miss it after all.

**_Oh_ ** **? Then, why would you feel the need to _mention_ it, _specifically_?**

**It’s called _retrospect_.**

**Oh, _sure_.**

**You would know it if you actually paid any thought to the things you do.**

His mind sorted through the past few days, stringing together the starker memories of his utterly irritating kin with a certain thread of tiredness encompassing his mind. Lukas huffed, lethargic strides and plain annoyance swirling around at the thought of Osbourne and the raw chaos that he had unleashed at his _already unhinged_ place of work. Shivers ran down his spine, less from the cold, and more so from the overall neuroticism of his mental state spiking at the recollection. Now, _that_ was quite a feat.

Looking at Osbourne’s face, a normal person would rightfully expect him to be thorough in his work and dealings, and while he _definitely_ was quite the workaholic, even to a somewhat concerning extent, there was another side to him. The so-called _dark_ side of the moon, or rather _bright_ side in Lukas’ case, in which it would take about five minutes of acquaintance with a person for Osbourne to bring forth his melodrama and notoriety. A package deal, where he was just as likely to get you out of prison as he was to get you in one, if you so chose to go along with his shenanigans.

Honestly? Osbourne had no real business, whatsoever, to show up at the precinct four days a week. He had no business showing up the very moment they left for patrol, case or not. 

Flowing in routine, Lukas involuntarily fished for his keys in his pockets as he approached the door to his apartment, his conflicted feelings flooding into relief as he would finally be able to take a brief moment of respite in the comfort of his own home. The key settled into the lock with the familiarity of a friend, the sweet clanking hitting his ears as he twisted it to open the door.

Looking back on the moment, it was childlike foolishness on his part, to have genuinely thought that after the rambunctious week in the precinct, he would have the opportunity to relax, even for a moment. He would be proven yet again to be _completely_ and _variedly_ wrong, for the exuberance had only truly _just begun_ to swing into fever pitch.

“ _Oi_ , shut the door, you’re letting the cold air in.”

Hands moving to his holster in a second, and lingering near his waist once recognition hit, Lukas froze near the door. The specific tone of one Osbourne Randall, snugly nestled in front of _his_ fireplace at full blast as he lounged on _his_ couch like he owned it caused red to start creeping into his vision. However, the last straw was the man in question popping a sour lemon drop into his mouth. One out of the multitudes of _his_ sour lemon drops out of _his_ jar – a jar that Osbourne should have never been able to see much less hold in the first place.

“What the _f_ -”

**_Fudge_ ** **!**

**_Fudge?_ **

**. . . _Munchkins_?**

**_Fudge-munchkins_ ** **. Yes.**

**_Fudge-munchkins?_ **

**What the _fudge-munchkins_.**

“Hand. It. _Over_.”

Lukas spat, on the couch next to the bane of his existence, shoddily cradling a now half-empty jar of lemon sour drops, the glare in his eyes and his fingers pinning down a badgered Osbourne to let loose the contents of his right pant pocket.

Appalled, Ozzy shot back, batting at his arm, “ _Oi_ -”

“Key. _Now_.” Lukas growled with a thinly veiled promise of physical implications should the object in question not be handed over to him in the acceptable span of a few moments.

Well-versed to his so-called threats, Ozzy bit back a grin. Lukas kept staring at him, hand unwavering, palm up, and if Ozzy had any more energy to keep up the argument, he would’ve just slapped his own palm over Lukas’. Rolling his eyes, Ozzy hissed, “Oh, _come on_!” He fished the key out of his pocket and practically slapped the metal object into Lukas’ outstretched palm.

Satisfied, Lukas made his way to the kitchen, an arm carrying the half-full jar of lemon drops, and the other hand gripping onto the key with all his might. He wouldn’t put it past Osbourne to tackle him, though he sincerely hoped that it was something that they had grown out of at this point in time and age.

The vexation left him, if only for a moment, as the scent of the brew he had put on a while ago began to waft stronger the more that he grew closer to the door. Once near the stove, he heard Ozzy mutter under his breath, “As if I don’t have the duplicate’s duplicate.”

Lukas snorted, placing the jar onto one of the upper shelves. Fiddling with the key in his hand, ultimately, he chucked it beside the jar as well. It’s not as if Osbourne would ever find it. Pouring out a mug full of the strong brew, Lukas shot back, “I heard that.”

**Quick reminder: _Osbourne_ did find it.**

**It would be a _shame_ for him if he hadn’t after practically turning the apartment _upside down_.**

**I did _not_. Two _measly_ inches, and you think that you belong to a _whole different world_.**

Mug in hand, he walked to the lobby, leaning onto the door frame with a menacing glare. Raising his mug, as if in celebration, he spoke, “Changing the lock on the door, it is.”

Ozzy narrowed his eyes, irises speckled with pebbles of scrutiny, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Lukas stared right back, taking a nice gulp of his coffee, “Oh, I _would_.”

Crossing his arms, Ozzy glared at him. This was _juvenile_. He countered, “Mum and dad have the spare keys as well.”

Lukas shrugged, rightfully unconcerned, “I don’t see them showing up unannounced or _bleeding_ at my doorstep.”

Suppressing a groan, Ozzy took a deep breath as to protest, but before he could say a word, Lukas held up a finger, “No, I am _not_ letting this go. _Ever_. In case you were wondering.”

**I still haven’t.**

**I know.**

Waving his hand, a light chuckle on his lips, Ozzy whispered, the challenge in his voice crystal clear, “Bold of you to assume I couldn’t get my hands on _their_ keys.”

Lukas glared at him, face turning a shade darker, and eyes squinting down till only the soul-crushing black could be seen. Osbourne stood his ground as well, leaning back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, returning his stare in challenge, _unflinching_.

They would have stayed as such, at least Lukas surely would have, if he hadn’t heard the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

Six when he had gotten off of work, half an hour that always took the space between the shutting of the office doors, and him coming back into the warmth of his apartment. He gulped. The two of them had been arguing for at least fifteen minutes, and it would become an easy hour of it if they were to keep it up.

This last week had wrung more emotion from him than the entirety of his time as an officer, and the only one to blame for it was the one _audaciously_ seated on his couch, with his _Cheshire cat grin_ , and his _incessant_ butting into everybody else’s business. The inherent need to rile up Osbourne, as _fair payback_ of course, simmered in Lukas’ heart, but he must surely leave by seven to reach the bar in time. 

Just this once, he did not want to miss out on even a single moment of the idiosyncrasies of his colleagues, especially one Sergeant Kym Ladell. Begrudgingly, he looked away from Osbourne’s stare, walking over to the couch, “This isn’t over. _Why_ are you here?”

_Lukas Randall_ _backing down_? The shock was evident on Ozzy’s face, if only Lukas had witnessed it instead of averting his gaze. Taking advantage of the moment, he summoned absolute nonchalance and smiled, “To see _you,_ of course.”

Sipping his coffee, Lukas remarked, getting straight to the point, “When you still have half an hour before work ends?”

Huh. A Luka that is backing down is not simply distracted enough to let go of key points in the conversation as well. Point noted and filed, for later use, Ozzy tried to pinpoint what was different. Only Lukas Randall would tell you he has nothing to do with you, and could still be found keeping tabs on you. He muttered, “Well, of course, you _must_ know how much I adore you over my job.” 

Lukas shook his head, “No, you _don’t_. Spit it out.”

Dropping the pretences his act required, Osbourne paused.

_There is no way that they could’ve talked, could they?_

He was surely put off by Lukas’ resistance to indulging him. However, he couldn’t exactly let it slip how he was practically kicked out of his own office to face Mr. Bishop. There was surely no way that Osbourne would admit to pacing up and down the street outside Lukas’ apartment for twenty minutes _simply_ because the man he was to meet was a _pain_ to deal with. There were a lot of words that came to his mind upon thinking of Mr. Bishop, and yet, all that remained at the forefront of his memory was the sharp, crisp tenor of his voice. _Unbearable_ , almost as if bugs crawled all over his back every time the man spoke.

Frowning a bit, Ozzy raised his hands, “Yes, _alright_. Apparently, your friend Sinclair has collected enough proof to determine Sake as a crooked man. I need to meet with a ‘ _Mr. Bishop’_ at the prosecutor’s office for a few documents.”

The prosecutor’s office was in the opposite direction from the bar. Leaning back on the couch, Lukas hummed somewhat thoughtfully while finishing up the last of his coffee, “Why didn’t you just ask Ms. Bordeaux?”

Ozzy shrugged, “I was already on this side of town for a case.”

Huh. _Excuses_. From Osbourne Randall. Who knew?

Lukas had a few choice words of his own for the blatantly diverting nature of their conversation, though he bit them down to save time. 

Lukas squinted at his response, “The prosecutor’s office is closer to _your_ office.”

Ozzy picked up his cup of tea, stating, “It is about the same distance from your apartment as well, Luka.”

Coming straight to the point, he spoke up, “Taking a police officer to the prosecutor’s office wouldn’t be the best choice.”

Ozzy countered, “Well, you _are_ off-duty and you’ll be going as my-”

He paused, mouth staying frozen, as the gears in his mind turned. He exclaimed, “Wait a _damn_ minute. Are you trying to blow me off?”

Lukas stared into his empty mug, “You’re a big boy, you can handle it.”

Ozzy waved off his assurance, “It’s not about- _You_ _are_. You _so_ are.”

Just one day of Osbourne not being a menace in his life. Was that too much to ask?

The silent ticking of the clock, a soft beat to Osbourne’s interjections, led Lukas to eventually bite the metaphorical bullet.

“I have plans for the night.”

Ozzy stared at him, a mixture of amusement, shock and daresay, _joy_ , gracing his features. Voice turning into the sweet rhythm of a song, he nearly crooned, “ _What_?”

Lukas rolled his eyes, “What you mean ‘ _what’_? It’s not _that_ weird.” 

Barely hiding his chuckle at the glare that he received, Ozzy cleared his throat, “The last time you had plans for the night, they involved a camera, a blanket and a jar full of sour candy, _babyface_.” Eyes flowing to the half wall obscuring the kitchenette, he smirked, “At least one of those things hasn’t changed.”

“I’ve had plans plenty of times since then,” Lukas said, setting his mug on the table and pointedly avoiding Ozzy’s eyes as he said, quieter, “but you wouldn’t happen to know about them, because you weren’t _here_.”

His words slammed into Ozzy’s heart like a brick wall, tasting the veiled bittersweetness of the jab on his tongue.

**(Why aren’t they making jokes?)**

**(I think this isn’t a fun part.)**

Willing his hands to go slack, Lukas took a deep breath, chancing a glance at the older man from the corner of his eye. He could see the tension roiling off of him in waves, even from the distance in that moment, though, beneath the weight of it all, he looked no different than his twelve-year-old self. Just as rambunctious, just as fidgety, and _just_ as _vulnerable_. Always wearing his heart on his sleeve, so much that people would forget to check for the beating in favor of being relieved at the sight of it.

People around Lukas believed that directing your bitter feelings upon problems rather than the person involved was a better solution. Over time, he had found that people were _wrong_. It only ate at you, turning you into a husk, until nothing else remained, and yet, the bitterness never truly went away no matter how hard you tried. It stayed there, sitting below the surface, rising high and going low in waves, uncaring of the moment you were placed in.

You _cannot_ let this bitter anger consume you.

Despite the threats that he fleshed out on a daily basis; Lukas knew better. He never _lied_ about the threats. Not once. But that didn’t mean that he was consumed by the need to see them through either. 

Lukas softened his tone into something that attempted to resemble hospitality, “It’s the annual new year’s party. All my colleagues will be there.” Then, darkly chuckling, he added, ”It’s good blackmail material.”

Ozzy gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, his mind running back to the times of their youth. The simpler days when at six years old, Lukas would run around the house with his toys. Little hands clutching onto the police car and other vehicles, and how those hands would always somehow find themselves lingering near his camera at all times.

Looking at Lukas, Ozzy smirked, “I’m sure it is.”

Sensing the ease crawling back into their conversation, he joked a bit, “You _still_ have the pictures from the Stenson’s party four years ago, don’t you?”

Cracking a sinister smile, Lukas whistled, “Yes, I do, and no, they aren’t _here_. They are someplace _safe_.”

“Someplace that _I_ am unable to access them, you mean to say?” Ozzy probed.

Sullen at once, Lukas warned, “Don’t you dare.”

Ozzy quirked an eyebrow, “What?”

Lukas huffed, pointing to his head, “You think that I don’t see those gears turning?”

Shaking his head, Lukas caught a glance at the clock. A quarter till seven. Picking up his mug to put into the sink, Lukas spoke up, “Give me ten minutes.” He began to get up, “I’m sure no one would mind if I was to arrive a bit later.”

Ozzy patted his arm, urging him to sit back down, “No, it’s fine. I’ll visit the department on Monday with Ms. Bordeaux.”

_What. The. Hell._

_First_ , Osbourne had the audacity to come all the way over to his apartment for the _sole_ purpose of having him accompany him to _wherever_ it was that he needed to go. _Second_ , he nearly gave him a scare, and probably would’ve gotten _shot_ had Lukas not recognized him. Third, he did his best, as always, to rile him up into an argument, or ‘ _healthy conversation_ ’ as he liked to call it, but _finally_ , now, he was letting it all go?

Lukas would have argued with him, _surely_ , but anything that he would’ve voiced died in his throat at his elder brother’s words, a small smile wrapped in melancholy:

“You rarely go out and enjoy yourself, Luka. Go have _fun_.”

Lukas breathed in the silence, cradling the mug in his hands, as his fingers fidgeted. Sitting in the silence next to Osbourne, the tanginess of the lemon-lime tart that his mother would make came back to his senses, as did all the memories from four years ago.

Clearing his throat, Lukas got up, moving to the kitchenette, “I will be getting ready now.”

Ozzy shot up from the couch, “So, everyone from the precinct will be at the party? Just the precinct?”

Lukas replied, as he cleaned the mug, “Well, yes.”

He then cleaned his hands on a towel, thinking aloud, “Although, I’m sure that if you were to join, they wouldn’t mind.” This past week, despite being quite the nuisance for him, Ozzy had become a source of endearment and entertainment at the precinct. He snorted, “ _Ladell_ would surely convince anyone who’d say otherwise.” 

Ozzy chuckled, “Oh, I’m afraid I will _not_ be able to grace your companions with the honor of my presence this time.”

Lukas walked past towards the bathroom, muttering sarcastically, “Such a _shame_.”

**It was _quite_ the evening despite the absence of your chaos.**

**Oh, I can believe that.**

Over his shoulder, Ozzy chanced another question, as Lukas retreated to his room, “Would _Ms. Desroses_ be there as well?”

Lukas’ voice came out muffled, and slightly confused, “She _is_ part of the precinct.”

Ozzy hummed to himself thoughtfully, a sharp mind that he had, _meticulously_ pouring over what he’d witnessed already and the assumptions that he would wager _anything_ on to be correct. A single spark of mischief made its way into his eyes, his lips curling into a teasing, knowing smile.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

A careful pause met the probing statement, ending with a muffled, “I believe I did.”

**_The lady doth protest too much, methinks_ ** **.**

**I am _not_ a lady.**

**So, you _do_ admit to protesting?**

**Not you _too_!**

“No, you didn’t.” Ozzy said, a little bit of his impeccable tact as a lawyer slipping into his voice, “I asked if _Lila Desroses_ was attending the party.”

Another pause. “What the hell are you on about now?” Lukas grumbled through the shut door of his bedroom.

Ozzy gave a smirk, replying, “I just want an answer to my question, _Luka_.”

“You _already_ have it,” he said, a hint of irritation leaking into his voice.

“All you have to do is say _yes_ or _no_ -”

“I don’t have time for this.”

The older man rolled his eyes and huffed, somewhat disappointed that he had failed to get a rise out of him. As the faint sound of footsteps heading towards the living room grew closer, he took a tentative sip of his tea, cooled beyond any real enjoyment.

And then promptly spat it out.

**As he _deserved_ to.**

**_Shut up_** **.**

At the sight of his brother keeled over and on the hardwood floor, Lukas felt genuine confusion with a healthy heaping of exhaustion over his antics. Was the tea actually _that bad_?

“If you didn’t _like_ the tea, you shouldn’t have _made_ it to begin with.” Lukas grunted as he made his way towards his coat, draped over a chair.

Ozzy’s head popped up from the floor over the couch, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated astoundment, “You can’t _seriously_ be going out to a party with _that_ shirt on.” Then, horrified, he whispered, “You _are_?”

Lukas gave Ozzy a leveled glare, his perpetual aura of darkness permeating through the space, “And what’s _wrong_ with it?”

By this point, Ozzy had gotten up and crossed the threshold of the space to stand a foot or two in front of him. “ _That_ color looks _absolutely terrible_ on you. I knew you were never one for clothes, but this-“

Osbourne paused, waving his hands around in frustration, “ _This_. This is just _hopeless_!” 

“I-” Lukas began before cutting himself off yet again, just trying to make it through the door. He had another walk in the cold night to endure and absolutely no patience left for it. He grumbled, “You know _what_ , I don’t care. It’s fine, you _melodramatic shill_.”

The shorter man leaped to the door, blocking his way in protest, “It looks like something I would _hurl_ _up_.”

“ _You_ gifted it to me for my birthday last year,” Lukas whined incredulously, exasperated at yet another inconvenience he had to deal with before he could _actually_ leave.

**Honestly, despite your _sound_ mind, you couldn’t figure out they were _gag gifts_?**

**Well, I didn’t want to hurt _your_ feelings.**

**_Hurt my_ ** **\- You have a _non-existent_ sense of dressing yourself. Just accept it.**

 **_No_** **.**

“And _now_ I regret it.” Ozzy groaned, genuinely disgusted at the article of clothing. “If I had _known_ -”

He promptly shut his mouth, remembrance tainting his mood. Before he could say another word, he realized that he would’ve dug his own grave with the next words he was to utter. An instance buried deep within memory that no one other than him and her should have any business hearing or knowing of.

Unfortunately for him, he had severely underestimated his brother’s certain gift for knowing things that he shouldn’t, for it only took a heartbeat of hesitation from Ozzy for him to piece together what the supposed ‘ _if_ ’ was supposed to be about. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Lukas said plainly, his tone dripping with barely concealed jest, “I _see_.”

“Now hold on-” Ozzy started, red creeping up his neck and grazing the tips of his ears in embarrassment.

“ _I_ wouldn’t want to be reminded about _spewing pea soup all over my date_ either.”

Ozzy’s hazel eyes widened before he turned his head away from Luka’s sadistic slash of a smile. “How the _hell_ do you even know about that?”

**That is not what _exactly_ happened. Hear me out-**

**That is _exactly_ what happened.**

**It is not the _entire_ story.**

**_Pea soup_ ** **?**

**And Luka wore a shirt of _that_ color.**

**Don’t _change_ the topic!**

“Officer Sinclair’s disastrous love life isn’t that much of a secret in the precinct,” Lukas stated, stepping around him as he moved towards his coat, adding maliciously, “ _Yours_ isn’t that much of a secret either. Though I’m sure it doesn’t _exist_ in the first place.”

“I hate you,” the reddening man mumbled as he slumped into the nearby recliner with his head, avoiding Lukas’ gaze.

“Sure, you do,” Lukas drawled as he went about preparing to leave his apartment for the time being.

“ _Despite_ it all, _that_ is still a bad color to wear,” Ozzy said, “Black always looks better on you anyways.”

Lukas raised a single eyebrow at the comment, his dark eyes searching through speckled hazel ones as his brother shrugged in response as if to say ‘you don’t think I’m lying, do you?’ After some deliberate consideration, he turned back to his room.

He chose to take Ozzy’s advice. After all, if his brother had _truly_ meant to antagonize him further or get back at him for the _pea-soup_ comment, it would be much more elaborate than a simple change in wardrobe. Even if he did, Lukas had more than enough blackmail to deter him from doing so anyway.

* * *

A little over an hour passed since Lukas had left for the party that he seemed quite interested in attending, and Osbourne had yet to move from the lounging chair that he found fairly comfortable to sit in. An almost chronic exhaustion had settled over him, weighing him down in the hollow of his bones and insistent on dragging down his flesh in order to rest, but he couldn’t afford to stay here for much longer, lest he actually fell asleep there. His coworkers wouldn’t let him forget that anytime soon.

Chuckling lightly at the thought, he braced his arms and got up from the couch, his body yearning to be allowed a simple reprieve, but there was still time in the evening to be productive. He put the abandoned tea cup in the sink, then slipped the book that he had picked up into the nearby bookshelf a few feet away.

The fire in the fireplace had died down, as all but a few embers remained, and so he grabbed his scarf and hat, trudging towards his coat, hanging on a hook on the wall, digging through the front pocket to pull out a few sour lemon drops, some lint, and a second key. To stand against Lukas Randall was a battle, and Ozzy always had his armor on, along with _more_ than just a few tricks up his sleeve.

**_Of course_ ** **, you do.**

**Of course, _I_ do.**

**You two are more alike than you would ever admit.**

**No, we’re _not_ -**

**The absolute _horror_ of it- **

With that thought in mind, Ozzy made his way out of the room and locked the door behind him, the cold hitting him with a chilly enmity. Sneaking the original key that Lukas had left him in his mailbox, Ozzy began the long walk to his office this time. A deep sigh, and it turned into mist in the night air as he trudged through the snow, his coat speckled as the first snowflakes of the evening fell.

For a moment, he let his face settle into something calm, eyebrows settling down as he willfully smoothened the creases on his forehead. He looked up at the evening sky covered with gray for a moment, eyes searching for something, a feeling that he could never quite put a finger on. It bothered him, quite especially on quiet nights like these, but he moved along the way. He couldn’t get lost in thought _now_. 

Besides, there were always things to do and work to be done.

**Besides, there were always things to do and work to be done.**

**I was surprised that you left the apartment as it was.**

**I even cleaned up after myself.**

**I am more surprised that he didn’t try to pull any pranks.**

**What?**

**Oh. Oh, _he_ did.**

**We don’t have to talk about _that_.**

**We _really_ don’t. Just know that he got an earful for it.**

**_What_ ** **did he do? By the _gods_. _Tell me_!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, Sauvage here. This chapter was a doozy through and through, but you also get a pinch of introspection from both of them. It almost makes you wonder what it's for ehe. We hope you enjoyed the latest installment of 'Osbourne getting on Lukas' last nerve'.
> 
> Peace, here! What the ** _fudge-munchkins_** indeed. HAHAHAHAHAHA 
> 
> Well, Ozzy and Lukas and peas and sour lemon drops? What could go wrong? Right? _Right_? 👀 
> 
> We'd love to see you guess what exactly Ozzy might have done that wasn't even worth bringing up, though we gave you zero clues hehe 👀
> 
> And for reference, this is the exact shade of the shirt Lukas wanted to go out in: 
> 
> [Pea soup](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Ficolorpalette.com%2Fcolor%2Fada62b&psig=AOvVaw2LL9xd8JGk3bjgJrCeva03&ust=1615819470802000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAIQjRxqFwoTCJCztOGCsO8CFQAAAAAdAAAAABAw)

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments feed our souls like coffee and tea :)


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